Notes On Marriage
by TofuLove
Summary: He sips his whiskey and flinches, because the fire has turned green with Madeye’s flaming head and worried eyes, and Remus is running, and Sirius is heading for his coat and his wand before Madeye’s head has left the grate. Second instalment of 'Notes'


**Dizclaimer: All characters belong to JK rowling. **

**Warning: The first story in this series is _'Notes on Love'_ reading them out of order may make some concepts hard to understand. Rated for adult themes. **

_**The thing about mass murderers**_

**The Bride's Guest List**

Her heart is hammering against her chest, her legs moving rapidly in perfect rhythm and pattern down the dark cobbled streets. She can hear the two of them on either side of her, but then suddenly the towering form of a building hampers their escape and she is running alone.

"Come out come out wherever you are."

The cold chill along her back comes instinctively and she grips her wand tighter, willing her two companions to be long gone and away from this place, but Tonks is Pregnant and Ginny is too strong willed. Both of them are probably just as close to danger as she is.

"Oh give it up you wenches, we know you're all still 'ere!"

Hermione can't decide why she ever once thought the Lestrange sisters were beautiful. The loss of Voldemort has not done them well over the years.

The gleam of a dark eye in the night

"There she is!"

A shrill voice,

A rapid escape

A purple spell

("Tonks! Apperate out of here! Find Ginny!")

A misstep

A leap

A struggle

A swift kick

("I'll teach you, Mudblood")

A clear vial

Darkness blacker then the night or the shadow of the building where Tonks and Ginny just disappeared around.

_**The lovers' quarrel that wasn't**_

**The Groom's Guest List**

He can't even remember how this stupid row started, only that it has somehow ended up here, him at Grimuald place feeling guilty while she runs off alone on dark dangerous streets to shop for wedding clothes—and, really, this whole situation is just ridiculous.

Sirius swivels his drink and listens to the ice clink, and being uncomfortably aware of Hermione's prolonged absence. Sirius feels it to his bones. If only he knew why she'd been so damn moody lately.

Remus says, "Don't be a prat, Sirius."

He says, "Its just wedding stress getting the better of both of you."

He says, "We would have known by now if something was wrong."

And his wisdom sounds a lot like comfort and Sirius feels relaxed.

Old memories and old friends and old Firewhiskey help along the situation

"Do you remember James' Wedding?"

Sirius remembers only too vividly. He remembers being eighteen and angry, stupid, shit-scared of losing what he'd been reckless enough to want and need and count on. And he only now realizes that it was always too late, from the moment her first spat his name at some Mudblood loving herk with stupid hair and a mischievous grin. And now he knows why he's so worried and angry and it doesn't make him feel better.

Because he doesn't want to loose one brainy Mudblood of his own, who giggles and presses her freckled nose into flowers and says his name in a way that makes him shudder and shouts at him so that it makes him cringe but shout back and still she always manages to save him. Over…

(I love you)

and over

(Of course I will)

and over again

(I'll leave until you calm down)

He sips his whiskey and flinches, because the fire has turned green with Madeye's flaming head and worried eyes, and Remus is running, and Sirius is frozen with fear and heading for his coat and his wand before Madeye's head has left the grate.

_**Thirty minutes of no lasting consequence**_

**Wedding delay**

He can't seem to get a grip on himself

("They found her on the street unconscious")

Ginny's comforting hand in his is shaking.

("The bump on her head isn't what has us worried.")

Or is that him?

("It's the vial they found and what it contained.")

The rise and fall of her chest is all he can think to focus on, subconsciously waiting for it to stop and at the same time his own chest rising and falling in a pattern with hers. Though he has to admit that that she looks so much better.

("She's bleeding…" The abruptness of the wound on her head shocked him to speech as the thick trail of scarlet left wicked stains on the street.)

So much better then when she arrived.

(she had been on the street half an hour when they finally found her)

but she still had not opened her eyes and Sirius could feel a cold clamp in his chest that was making it hard to breathe.

If only he hadn't argued with her. At the moment, none of that matters.

Sirius once asked his tutor what love meant; he still doesn't understand it, but he knows now that it hurts a thousand times more than his mother's Cruciatus. A thousand times worse then his father's slicing hex. And somehow it feels a lot like the rough texture of a gray stone in a crowded court yard, or the way the wind through his cell smelled like soap and sweat and wet leaves in October, or like this. Like the rise and fall of her chest that looks like it takes all of her energy away. And he wishes he could just breathe for her if it would allow her to open her eyes and look at him and smile like he has just said something stupid and not quite unforgivable. Like it is just another lazy Saturday morning and they have nothing to do but laugh at the way his tone is teasing or at the way she always has to know everything.

But his eyes keep watching her chest

Rise

("We believe we've taken all of the poison")

Fall

("It was an old toxin. One we had thought to be extinct.")

Rise

("Any longer and it would have reached her ventricles.")

Stop

He stopped. He stared. He waited. "Remus…" he murmered. He stared a little longer at the still frame.

"Remus!"

He realizes someone is calling out and then he recognizes that it's him. Remus comes running through the doorway, nervous and worried and looking like he could tackle the biggest problem in their midst.

"Remus she stopped! She-"

and then he stared again. And she stared back. And she smiled. Like it was Saturday morning and he had just done something stupid and forgivable.

_**Love like Crucio and giggles like stolen whiskey**_

**Location, location, location**

"Absolutely not!"

Sirius and Hermione argue constantly but the number of times he actually felt he had a point, that he was right, those times are far and few between. And this time he means it.

"Sirius everything has already been planned, and I doubt Bellatrix and Narcissa will even believe I'm still alive.'

Sirius fights against the urge to vomit. He growls in frustration, scrubbing a hand across his face. "Jesus, Hermione, don't you get it—_damn_ it." He pulls his hand away from his face, and grips her hand gently but firmly. "You almost _died_."

Her look is questioning and her eyebrows knit together as she grips his hand back. He can remember the look of pain on her face when they revived her. Listened to her screams down the hall as he paced with madness like a dog irritated by a call he can't run to. She remembered every twinge of the pain the potion caused yet still she was determined and confused about his wanted delay of the wedding. She wanted to continue with it regardless.

"I'm fine now love. Why do you really want to wait? Tell me the truth."

"The truth?" His voice sounds unsteady and childish to his own ears. "The truth is that if you scare me like that again I don't know if I can stay sane."

He has never felt so exhausted and old in his life, and her small soft hand resting against his cheek just makes him want to crawl in bed with her and sleep with her form warm and present.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm ready to be your wife you bloody idiot."

And Sirius laughs, short and wretched, because he _is_ a bloody fucking idiot, and love hurts a lot like life without her and her giggles at his kisses sound a lot like running through the damp dark forest chasing a dangerous wolf, the stretch of fur and the howl of wind rushing through his pointed ears, they sound a lot like laughing with stolen Firewhiskey, like getting in trouble in third year, like coming back to life.

"Does that mean I win?"

He laughs, deep and meaningful.

**_Tradition_**

**Something old**

"W-what?"

He can't quite speak. She is staring at him determinedly and he can't quite comprehend that they are having this particular argument.

"You heard me. I still want to be included in the Order's search."

He stands to face her, catching his breathe and letting the consequences flow through his mind if he allows her to do it. Which he won't.

"And _you_ heard the healers. You're not ready for activity yet. And you're a bloody idiot if you think I'm going to let you take a chance in getting hurt again."

For the first time he feels like laughing in her face

"Sirius you were restricted from fighting once too. Its not as dangerous as it once was when Voldemort was around!"

"Yeah I think the healers who treated you in St. Mungos, the people who listened to you scream, I think they might feel otherwise!"

She flinches and he moves to her, holding his hands on her cheeks.

"There are things between these hands I can't live without."

She looks away and her voice becomes serious.

"I'm going to be involved whether you allow me or not"

Sirius smirks coldly, but just as he is about to make his grand exit, Hermione grabshim again, this time by the tie. Hermione yanks hard, silk tangled around her long fingers, and there is definitely something inappropriately sexual about this. Sirius half-expects Hermione to tug their bodies closer, to close the distance between their mouths and pull at Sirius's hip with her free hand—and it might be out of place, but the fact is that this looks awfully familiar.

It turns out that anger looks a lot like sex. Maybe that's not a coincidence.

He'll swear he's still angry even as Hermione presses him back into his bed and drags a deep animal moan from his throat. He has never thought that a touch as light as a flick on the back of his neck could evoke such a hiss. But it does.

—and then Hermione twists beneath him in glorious agony, and he forgets to care.

Clothes discarded anger to passion sweat becomes the sweetest taste in the world

—and then everything fits together, skin and muscle, wet and perfect, and Sirius cries out and rolls his hips without thinking.

"_Sirius_!" Hermione bites his shoulder to hide her hissing pleasure and sharp intake of breath. The dog in him can smell the blood, and Sirius almost comes at the contrite glide of her tongue over raw skin.

This is so far beyond the limits of acceptable behavior. There's the wedding, of course, but also their duties as Order members: Everyone is probably downstairs waiting for Hermione to decide on patterns and Sirius to finish choosing the meal plans—but then euphoria bursts white and blinding behind Sirius's eyelids, and his ears roar with the deafening sound of Hermione's gasping moan, and the whole world can just piss off.

**Something new**

She listens to his breathing next to her as if It's her instruction for living. As if not hearing it would cause the room to crumble around her. It's the atmosphere that holds up the walls. So when the rhythm changes, she can hear it. She continues to stare at the ceiling, knowing that his eyes are focusing on her, that he's watching her intently.

"I know you know I'm awake."

She can't help the grin.

He's placing a soft kiss on her lips before she can turn to face him. They stare for a while and the incidents of the last few days seem like such a long time ago.

"Ouch!"

Except for that.

"What's wrong?"

Its amazing how a scrunch of the nose and a whimper of pain can cause his heart rate to quicken like he' been running his whole life.

"Its nothing. My legs. They're just a little cramped for some reason."

He's off the bed in an instant.

"Maybe we should take you back…"

"No! no, I'm fine. The Healers said there might be some side effects of the poison left. That's what it feels like."

Silence. A memory. A distraction.

"I have something for you."

Her smile is enough to melt any man's heart. Sirius is not just any man though, and he sees something else behind her eyes and he likes it. He likes that he makes her feel this way, but his cocky nature is unmatched. He would expect no less of himself.

The tiny velvet red box comes out of the top drawer by the bed and he sets it in the palm of her hand and a kiss on her forehead.

She slowly reaches to open it. A silver band upholds the gleaming star set upon the carved diamond shape. Her eyes are the only things he can see shining.

On a small tag placed with stretch string on the band are the words _'I Love You'_

Her lips are smashed on his before he can ask her if she likes the ring but he takes that as his answer, and it seems that the world is going to disappear again as her hands travel and it seems he really doesn't care for anything else but morning romping and violent passion kisses and rolling on white sheets, until Remus' voice rings from downstairs. The tones familiar and deadly and oh so unwelcome this morning of all mornings.

"Sirius, Hermione, St. Mungos flooed…there's some news."

**Something Borrowed**

He can't breathe. He can't quite remember how he got here. He can feel the blood in his hands, slick and hot, still pulsing its useless traitorous cadence as it slips through his fingers. Blood is power, hateful and damning, and he is too dead to bleed even when Hermione's fingernails tear his skin

Yet he can't place why his existence is suddenly hitting him so hard. He can't place why he suddenly looks so harsh on everything, or why Remus is shaking him, why his lips are moving and no words come out. Why Hermione is crying on his borrowed shoulder, and why he can't seem to find the words to comfort her or make her stop. The sound of his own pulsing blood seems to be drowning out everything else, even what the paperwork on the table says.

('_We are sorry to report'_)

He tries to focus,

('_The data indicated another form'_)

tries to read it,

('_Stress on mother and child'_)

But he can only catch snippets of it through everything else.

('_The baby was lost'_)

and then it comes rushing back out of sequence and too fast to separate.

Remus' sad face as he tries to relay "Did you know you were pregnant?" Hermione's howl the paperwork the moodiness _'If only he knew why she'd been so damn moody lately' _the sobbing the shaking Hermione falling on the floor howling with something more then grief.

"Sirius help her!"

(_T-thump_)

wait

(_T-thump_)

This is happening now

"HERMIONE!"

His voice is back. Along with the screaming, and the shaking, and the fearful shrieks about something only she can see.

**Something Blue**

A week.

He will clench his fists, close his eyes, and take a deep breath full of the same muted, resigned hatred he has always reserved for Slytherins and for his parents and for anyone who has ever kept him apart from her.

He will cry and deny it and yell at people there to help him and feel guilty when he looks at her and want to kill…

James's death was clean, efficient, but Sirius is going to rip Bella's limbs from her body. He is going to shred Narcissa's skin, wrench out fistfuls of dripping flesh and muscle, shatter her bones and grind the shards into the hard leather of her heart.

They will die; Sirius will kill them. And then.

Hermione. Remus. The Order.

He wants to care—wants to worry and plan and protect. He wants to _live_, but it seems impossible, a hazy dream misremembered and half-forgotten. That's what it's turning into.

And he realizes he's turning crazier then he ever was before he died.

But for now, he stumbles away from the table, away from Remus's deliberately indifferent eyes, and retreats behind closed doors to try and remember how to put on that brave front, and keep going.

Because eventually it will happen

Eventually she will be gone

But he's going to avoid it

Like he always does.

Patient Check-in Form

**Full Name: **Granger J. Hermione

**Wand: **Vine wood, Dragon Heartstring

**Profession: **Professor and potion's mistress

**Home Address: **Number 12 Grimuald Place, London

**Patient suffering from: **Effects of a Deadly nightshade potion

**Healer's Notes: **Patient is suffering from the effects of a potion conjured with the use of Deadly nightshade, one of the most painful potions known to wizard kind. Causes extreme pain throughout the body and spreads quickly. The potion included Ashwinder eggshell, causing inflammation and painful events; Thujone, which stimulates the nervous system, allowing the inflammation to travel through the nerves and cause shaking and travel more quickly in times of great adrenaline build up or stress; Aconite, which disrupts nerves in the brain and causes the slow torture effect of the potion to contradict the nightshade and a slowing of the heart, also is the cause of the incoherence.

**Current Treatment: **N/A

**Lasting Side effects: **Patient will have events of severe tremors and pain in certain joints and muscles during times of high adrenaline rush, as well as memory of all painful events and some incoherence during attacks. Eventual death may occur with time depending on the amount of stress the patient is put under.

**Healers Signature: **_Healer Aladair L. Christian_

* * *

I think this one is a little better then the first. The next one will be up soon but I'm not going to say the name cause its a suprise.


End file.
